


Reflections

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [88]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Finally Everyone Goes To Therapy, Go To Therapy Please says the author who is the reason they havent yet, M/M, Past Abuse, Suicidal Ideation of a sort, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Unsympathetic Deceit Sanders, Unsympathetic Deceit is dead though this is the aftermath, and EVERYBODY gets a turn on the mirror not just Roman, and thats EXACTLY what it says on the tin, antagonizing children, distressing descriptions of frozen limbs, i took that funhouse mirror metaphor and ran full fucking speed ahead yall, meltdowns, mentions of grave desecration, sort of magic comas, sorta more like Chaotic Neutral Sad Boy Remus but Ya Know, the suicidal stuff is probably best described as suicide by cop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21769336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: Mirror, mirror, on the wall…
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Past Abusive Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, Past Unhealthy Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Deceit Sanders
Series: LAOFT Extras [88]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1365505
Comments: 115
Kudos: 650





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> this one is taking place about a year and a half after _Winterbloom_ and so about 12 years after the main story
> 
> I cannot seem to locate a specific prompt for this (i dont know where they went???) but a LOT of people asked for Remus in LAOFT - i hope this delivers!
> 
> Eulalia ( yoo-LAY-lee-ə) is a [monk parakeet (Myiopsitta monachus)](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monk_parakeet), also known as a [Quaker Parrot.](https://render.fineartamerica.com/images/rendered/default/poster/10/8/break/images/artworkimages/medium/1/quaker-parrot-molly-1-jessica-group.jpg)
> 
> Might be obvious, but stones with fluid inclusions (called [enhydros](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enhydro_agate)) are real and very cool – the specific crystal I was picturing was a [Golden Healer Quartz](https://cdn10.bigcommerce.com/s-245yz/product_images/uploaded_images/golden-healer-quartz.jpg?t=1440886701), which is a quartz with hematite impurities
> 
> The meteorite is specifically a [Martian meteorite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martian_meteorite) – it would fall under the Literal Definition of “fallen star” for a fae and, best part, they’re very rare (like 250 identified in world) and therefore probably very very stolen. Seemed fitting.
> 
> Also inspired by [@Willowanderer's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer) recursive laoft fic [The Witch and The Green Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300998/chapters/50724161), which is an amazing sentence to type - we’ve got a full on ouroboros of mutual inspiration going and i LOVE it!!!
> 
> a big old DELIGHTED thanks to [@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com), who’s beta-reading is always super helpful and who’s comments always make my Whole Day
> 
> Another multichapter! Looking like a two shot on this one, so part 2 is coming some time soon.

If you asked Roman, he would happily tell you his life was perfect.

He had three wonderful husbands, his grouchy, hilarious grandmother, a perfect, _perfect_ daughter, and more family than he knew what to do with most days. Sometimes he had to just pause and take it all in, overwhelmed by it.

And that statement – _my life is perfect –_ well… it wouldn’t be a lie. Exactly.

More that… Roman liked to pretend it had always been perfect. Of course, he couldn’t just _act_ like the less-than-spectacular way they’d met Virgil years ago hadn’t happened, but it was- easier to just shove it in a box and do his best not to think about it.

There was no _reason_ to think about it. Why would Roman want to dwell on the worst two years of his life when he had everything he had ever and _could_ ever possibly want, right here?

Well, not right here exactly. Right here was a fairy revel, which his human family and not-human daughter were decidedly _not_ at. The mere thought of Linda at a revel immediately made Roman’s blood pressure go up twenty points.

Someone snapped in front of his face.

Shaking himself a little, Roman turned and gave Bell an attentive look.

“Hmm?”

Bell rolled her eyes.

“You could pretend to be listening,” she said, “You could even look at me, instead of staring off into the ether,”

“Sorry,” said Roman sheepishly, “What were you saying?”

“We were arguing about my presence at the state park,” she said dryly.

“Right,” said Roman, “No,”

“Listen-”

“Bell, we are _not_ taking you to Old Man’s Cave,”

“If anybody could get in trouble at a mortal vacation spot it’s _you-_ ”

“We’re going to have a hard enough time not making a spectacle with Mr. Lord of the Forest and my daughter wearing shoddy glamour,”

“If you take White too, she can cast the glamour,”

“Do you _hear yourself?_ ” said Roman incredulously, “Take _White_ to a hiking trail full of mortals? Mortal _children?_ That’s exactly what we need, is for some hapless schmuck to snap at a kid in front of her and _whoops,_ Patton’s got a new god-sibling and we’ve got a corpse to deal with,”

Bell furrowed her brow.

“Sarcasm, right? Because we don’t need that?”

“Yes, Belladonna, sarcasm,”

“I’m very jealous of sarcasm, you know,” she said, “It’s so _interesting,_ lying but everybody knows it’s a lie, on purpose? Humans are wild,”

“Ask Specs about it, you two can have a ‘human speech patterns are fascinating’ party,”

There was a sudden, shrieking commotion from a group of fae, just outside the circle of the firelight. Bell went from jovial to deadly in a second, and Roman took a moment to feel a little bad for whatever poor bastard had caused it.

Roman followed her towards the source of the noise – it looked like a group of deer folk, some of them scattering and a few just staring in wary confusion.

Roman followed the line of their gaze, and felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“Pretty birdy, pretty birdy!” came the sing-song voice, “You have to be alive for at least another few minutes so don’t make me kill you!”

The Green Man let out a victorious _a-ha,_ closing his fingers around the squawking green bird. Clutching it in one hand – a little too tight, it looked like – he fiddled with a dangling bit of silver chain attached to his belt and hooked it to a little cuff on the bird’s ankle.

“There!” he said cheerfully, “Don’t know how you keep getting out of it, you feathery bastard,”

Bell had grabbed ahold of Roman’s arm, a little too tightly. It was a good thing she had, because when the Green Man turned, Roman thought his knees might have given out if she hadn’t.

He hadn’t aged a day. He grinned over at them, mint green skin and dark brown hair and eyes barely at shade off of Roman’s own, looking not a day over the eighteen _Roman_ had been the last time he’d seen him.

“Oh, hello Substitute,” he said brightly. Roman’s stomach churned.

“Hello, Remus,” said Bell quietly. The deadly air around her was gone. Her face was as indecipherable as smooth stone.

Remus bowed theatrically.

“The Autumn Leafy Lady, I dare say I even missed you a little bit,”

He stood up and wiggled his fingers in Roman’s direction.

“Not you, though,”

Roman was fairly certain he was going to throw up.

Remus stepped closer, and Roman remembered enough to step back just out of arm’s reach. Remus beamed at him – he almost looked _touched._

“Oh, I see you haven’t forgotten me too badly,”

He leaned in, squinting.

“And you’re getting _old!”_ he said, delighted, “Oh, I have the best timing. He’ll be getting bored of you any day now,”

Bell squeezed Roman’s arm, and he registered it but didn’t feel it at all.

Remus didn’t seem bothered, just moving around the two of them and making his way toward the revel.

“Show me the way, Substitute, where is my love?”

Roman made a wounded noise.

“Remus-” said Bell.

“Oh don’t be all _reticent,”_ he said, rolling his eyes, “I have his presents, you can’t hide me from him,”

Roman was following Remus on autopilot, Bell trailing after him, and surely Roman had to say _something_ , but he hadn’t the faintest idea _what._ There was no way this was going to end well, for anyone.

“The bird was easy,” Remus said amiably, standing on his toes and craning his neck, “I killed the first few though, mortal animals are so delicate – you know they have to eat _every_ day? Plants are so much sturdier,”

He cooed at the bird.

“Aren’t you a delicate little meat-creature, Eulalia? Breakable little bird-boned bastard,”

“ _Bastard_ ,” said the bird, a garbled mockery of a human voice.

“Neat, right?” said Remus, “The humans keep these as pets, can you believe? They aren’t even magic!”

“Really?” said Bell. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

“Oh, yes- and the rocks!”

He stopped then, dropping his bag from his shoulder and fishing around. He pulled out two stones, one gold and one brown.

“Look, it’s got the water in it!” he said, holding out the golden one and tipping it back and forth. Through the crystal Roman could see the little bubble of a fluid inclusion, moving back and forth.

“Water from a stone,” said Bell. She was radiating misery.

“This is the cool one though,” he continued, holding out the brown one, “It’s a fallen star,”

“Looks like a rock to me,” said Bell.

“Well, it’s a chunk off the wandering red star,” said Remus, squinting up at the sky, “I’m still shit with sky maps, Roman where’s the red star right now?”

Roman didn’t answer.

Remus looked away from the sky, tilting his head curiously.

“You seem extra glum,” he said brightly, “That’s _delightful_ , you must really be out of his good graces if you’re _this_ upset just from me showing up,”

The crowd to the side parted, and Logan came through, frowning.

“Are you alright, he said you were-”

He stopped still, blinking at Remus, who was giving him a delighted look.

“Is that _you_ , Snowmelt? Oh, you got old too! What the hell are you doing at a _new_ moon revel? Did you finally stop throwing a fit at your mother?”

Logan’s face went from startled to glacially cold all at once.

“Specs, don’t-” Roman croaked.

But it was too late – between the two of them, Virgil must have decided whatever he was busy with could wait. He stepped out of Logan’s shadow, Patton in tow, frowning as he took in the scene around them before settling his gaze on Remus.

Remus, for his part, had frozen, staring uncomprehending up at Virgil.

“Who are you?” said Virgil bluntly.

Remus looked between Virgil and Roman, and Roman could practically _feel_ the air going prickly with hostility.

“Where is the king?” Remus said, voice flat.

Virgil barely reacted.

“There is no king,” he said, “I’ll only ask one more time – who are you?”

“I’m the king’s champion, what the fuck do you mean there’s _no king?_ ” Remus snarled, and that, _that_ was too much.

Remus didn’t even know how true _Substitute_ had turned out, that Dee had sent him off with barely a blink and given Roman his position within a week. He didn’t know that Roman had been a vindictive little _shit_ about it, preened over it like a peacock.

And then forgotten all about him.

And now he was back, back and a _kid,_ god, _look at him_ , and he’d been gone for years and years fulfilling a list of impossible tasks for a _dead man,_ and Roman hadn’t spared him a single solitary thought.

Patton was standing closer now, cupping Roman’s elbows and humming gently in question. Virgil wasn’t looking at Remus anymore, but at Roman, and his brow was pinched in worry.

“The Snake Prince is dead,” said Logan, blunt as a rusty ax.

“ _Honey,”_ said Patton, a little admonishing.

“Better to get it out of the way,” muttered Bell sadly, moving between Patton and Remus.

Remus was smiling, his teeth glinting and the whites of his eyes suddenly fully visible around the whole of his iris.

“I don’t know what kind of trick you’re playing,” he said, and Roman knew what _hysterical_ sounded like and wanted to curl into a ball against Patton’s chest and never look at the world again.

“It isn’t a trick,” said Bell, holding out one hand as if to soothe a horse and nodding at Virgil, “He deceived the court. The Spider Prince isn’t dead, and he was executed after the return of the real Lord of the Forest,”

Roman thought “executed” was probably just about the kindest word Bell could have used for what Greta had done to De- the _Snake_ _P_ _rince._

And then- and then Remus looked at _Roman,_ and he looked half like he was going to tear the first person he got his hands on apart and half like the world was collapsing around him.

“Roman,” he said, still smiling that shaking, vicious smile, “Roman, where- where is our king?”

Roman made a strangled noise, and Patton pressed forward and squeezed him around the ribs.

“Roman, _where’s Dee?”_ Remus shrieked.

Roman answered, and Remus lunged.

—

It had been nearly an hour, and Roman still hadn’t stopped shaking.

The fight – if it could be called that – had been over very quickly, between Bell and Virgil, not to even mention Logan, who had dispersed the other Green Man’s own attempts at magic with nearly bored flicks of his hand. The fae – Remus, Bell had said – barely seemed to notice being restrained.

Roman had also been _silent_ since.

They couldn’t go home like this, but Roman certainly couldn’t stay at the revel. Patton took him back to the rooms at the fairy hill, infrequently used as they were. Guiding Roman inside, he shut the door behind him. Roman was moving like a ghost, unaware and gaunt.

Patton sat next to him on the bed, running his hands soothingly up and down Roman’s forearms.

“Hey, sweetie,” he said quietly.

Roman swallowed. He didn’t respond, but the slight tilt of his head let Patton know he was listening.

“How are you doing?”

Roman looked like he might have been trying to smile. Patton wasn’t sure what that expression was, exactly, but it was definitely not _that._

“Do you want me to help?”

Some of the tension went out of Roman’s shoulders, and he nodded.

Patton hummed a little, gentle and low, and Roman leaned against him so hard the knock against his forehead almost hurt.

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetie,” said Patton, barely pulling.

“How _old_ is he?” Roman blurted, strangled.

Patton waited, but nothing else seemed to be coming. He could pull harder, but he’d rather try the gentle way first.

“Remus?” he asked.

Roman nodded.

“I don’t know, honey,” he said gently, “You’d know better than me, you- you knew him, right?”

Roman struggled for several seconds.

“I mean- if. If he was human. How old? If you were- were guessing,”

Patton frowned. He had no idea where this was going.

“I’m not sure, honey, um- eighteen? Nineteen, maybe,”

Roman let out a long breath.

Patton went to maybe ask again, but he changed his mind when it looked like Roman was going to continue.

“… Were we that young?” Roman said finally, quiet and fragile.

Patton’s chest twisted. He kneaded Roman’s arms, swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” he said weakly, “Yeah, baby, we were,”

Roman reached up to cover his face, hands shaking.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Patton, “It’s over, Roman,”

“ _Is it?_ ” said Roman desperately.

Patton ran his fingers through Roman’s hair.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said carefully.

Roman was fretting his hands in his lap now, and when Patton looked closer his stomach churned – Roman was tracing sigils in his palms, which Patton hadn’t seen him do in years.

“I mean,” said Roman, shaking his head with a bitter smile, “How many more surprises? How many more messes did he leave that are- that are gonna sneak up on us and stab us in the _neck-”_

“Oh, sweetheart-”

“I can’t, I _can’t,_ did you _see him?”_ Roman demanded suddenly, tearing at his hair, “Pat, he’s a _kid,_ he was so- he was so _excited._ I didn’t even _remember_ his stupid _quest-”_

Roman spat the word like it was poison.

“-until he was _standing right in front of me,_ ” he finished, ragged.

“The quest, that’s- the bird?” said Patton, trying to distract him and tug Roman’s hands out of his own hair at the same time.

“He kept picking on me,” said Roman, “Pranks, mostly, though you know- you know fae, they’re not always great with getting how sturdy humans are and-”

He shook his head again – he looked absolutely miserable.

“D- the Snake, he got irritated, I don’t- I don’t know if he meant for Remus to come back or not. Told me it was to ‘keep him occupied.’ A talking bird, water from a stone, and a fallen star,”

Patton bit the inside of his cheek, hard.

Roman’s breath was shallowing.

“I was so _smug_ about it after he was gone, what the hell is _wrong with me-”_

“Calm down,” said Patton softly, lifting Roman’s hands up to his lips and punctuating it with a kiss to Roman’s knuckles, another tug as gentle as he could manage.

Roman loosened a little, and Patton continued to pull on that one until Roman was slumped forward, his face tucked into Patton’s neck and his shoulders shaking.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” said Patton firmly.

Roman swallowed.

“But I-”

“ _Nothing_ ,” Patton repeated, firmer, “Honey, you said it yourself. You were a kid. You didn’t understand,”

“And after?” said Roman, strangled, “After I- after I forgot all about him and let him wander the whole fucking continent for twelve years?”

Patton bit his lip.

“… I don’t think you could have done anything anyway,” he said weakly, “You know how magic works, Roman, way better than I do. He couldn’t have come back without finishing it, no matter if the Snake Prince was dead or not,”

“I could have helped him,” said Roman, “I could have tried,”

“Roman,” said Patton desperately.

Roman waited, and Patton struggled to find the words.

“None of it is your fault Roman,” said Patton, and it killed him to say it, because he’d said it _before_. They all had, the three of them, and their families and their friends - Patton didn’t know anyone who _hadn’t_ tried to make Roman understand that none of the awful things that had happened to all of them were his fault. It wasn’t until now that Patton understood just how unsuccessful they’d all been.

“I should have _tried,_ ” Roman repeated. He was shaking, and Patton wanted to say the right thing but he didn’t know what the right thing _was._ The magic words he could say in a magic voice that would make everything _not hurt_ , or at least not hurt _Roman,_ because Patton could bear a lot of things but Roman hurting wasn’t one of them.

“I love you,” Patton said against his temple, knowing it wasn’t enough, “I love you so much, honey. I wish I could fix it,”

Roman smiled against Patton’s collar, brittle and sour, and Patton pulled him back against the pillows.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Patton.

Roman didn’t answer. Patton got the feeling Roman didn’t quite believe him, but considering Patton had no idea what they were going to do about it himself, he couldn’t really blame him.

—

Virgil was having a long day.

By now, more than a decade out of the casket, Virgil was used to finding new reasons to hate his brother everywhere he turned. Every time he asked after one of the Seelie gentry he’d known the name of before, and had to add them to the list of the dead. Every time he came across Spring or Summer or even Autumn children and they ran from him like they expected to be _run down._

Every time Bell drew a blade and White flinched. Every time she drew one and _Roman_ did.

So yes, he was used to it. He’d thought nothing could surprise him, and he still wouldn’t call himself surprised, right now.

Horrified, maybe.

Virgil didn’t like that they’d had to restrain him, but there really hadn’t been another option. Adrius was cradling one of his arms, bleeding sluggishly but slowly healing from the bite taken out of it. They’d moved away from the revel, set a few knights between them to keep people from _gawking,_ and the handful of knights still around them all looked deeply uncomfortable.

None more than Bell.

The Summer seemed to be calming down, though. He was breathing heavily through his teeth, still stained with Adrius’s blood, glaring wild-eyed at the dirt in from of him and his hair hanging in his face.

And all of it – the story he’d pieced together from the Seelie’s rants and Bell’s carefully neutral explanation, the successes of an impossible quest scattered around them, including a bird that nibbled affectionately at the kid’s hair and reminded Virgil achingly of Jax, the way he was clearly having a total break down – all of it made Virgil’s stomach turn.

But the worst part – the worst part was that Remus really did look like Roman.

His brother had had a _type,_ apparently, and it made Virgil want to find a way to resurrect him just so he could kill him all over again. He didn’t think Grettie would have minded him undoing all her hard work, all things considered.

But he did seem to have calmed down a little. Virgil hesitated before he kneeled down to look him in his face, being sure to stay out of _biting_ range with a wary glance at Adrius.

“Have you calmed down?” he said, a little awkwardly.

Later, he’d feel a bit stupid that he hadn’t predicted Remus was going to spit in his face.

Bell made an absolutely scandalized noise Virgil was definitely going to make fun of her for later, and one of the knights lunged _-_ it was only Virgil moving quickly between them that stopped whatever he’d been gearing up to do.

“I don’t care,” said Virgil flatly, wiping his face, “It’s not like it’s acid,”

The knight – another Summer called Finch - looked so enraged he was shaking with it, but after a moment he stopped pushing against Virgil’s hands. Virgil waited until he relaxed another degree before he let go, returning to his previous spot.

“Feel better?” he said dryly.

Remus scowled at the dirt and said nothing. Virgil sighed.

He reached for one of the rocks, and Remus screeched at him.

“Those aren’t _yours!”_

Virgil winced in sympathy.

“He was my brother,” he said, though the words left a bitter taste on his tongue, “I’m the only one left to take them,”

Remus struggled for several seconds, gnashing his teeth, before he let out a _shriek_ of fury that made the gathered knights wince and then slumped all at once, his head hanging low.

Virgil hesitated.

“…Remus?” said Virgil, though his skin crawled a little with it. Remus hadn’t told Virgil he could call him so much as _bastard,_ but somehow the thought of calling him something dismissively impersonal like _Seelie_ didn’t sit any more right in Virgil’s stomach.

“ _Fine,_ ” he hissed, “Take them, then. What does it matter?”

Virgil winced again.

The stones were easy, warming in his palm. The bird made him a little nervous, because it was still perched near Remus’s head, but he didn’t move an inch as Virgil lifted the creature off his shoulder, unclipping the chain on its ankle.

And then it unhooked, and Virgil’s nausea nearly doubled.

It was trivial – his brother clearly hadn’t cared about this particular quest. It was so inconsequential Virgil hadn’t even noticed it going unpaid, and could barely tell the difference now that it was.

Virgil handed the bird to Finch – he didn’t know if Finch’s false name actually meant he was any good with birds, but it was Virgil’s best guess – who took it a little more solemnly than Virgil thought was strictly necessary.

“Your quest is complete,” said Virgil, his voice as even as he could manage, “Be free of it,”

“Go rot in a _fucking compost heap,_ ” Remus spat.

Bell muttered something under her breath and Virgil couldn’t tell if she was impressed or horrified or something of both. She and the other knights looked like they were waiting for Virgil to snap, and maybe he would have, under different circumstances. When he was younger, maybe, or when he didn’t have the specter of his brother hanging over the whole interaction.

But right now, Virgil was just tired. Tired of overturning stones and finding all of them graves, new cruelties to mourn. Here was a Seelie, a knight, in pain – not Virgil’s Seelie, not his knight, but the phantom ache of it was there anyway. Remus had returned to nothing, and there _was_ absolutely nothing Virgil could do about it.

It almost made him wish his heart was a little more Winter.

He stepped back a few yards, and Logan came with him, frowning deeply at Remus.

“This is… not a good situation,” he sighed.

“No kidding,” muttered Virgil.

“Ideally,” said Logan, “We could simply release him now that his quest is completed,”

He bit the inside of his cheek.

“… But?” prompted Virgil.

Logan shifted a little awkwardly.

“I do not-”

He paused again, then backtracked.

“Under normal circumstances, I would not extrapolate my own experiences to the entirely of my subspecies,”

Virgil waited. Logan’s frown deepened even further.

“But some things are fairly universal,” he said quietly, “We are territorial, and we have tempers. If you let him go he will kill someone. I’m as certain of it as I can reasonably be,”

Virgil blew out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Alright,” he said, “This is not going to be fun,”

Logan didn’t ask him to elaborate, just following behind as Virgil returned to the knot of knights, Remus bound in the middle, and crouched down again.

“I apologize for this,” he said, “I wouldn’t do it if I thought I had a choice,”

Remus narrowed his eyes.

“You will not seek vengeance for the death of your love,” said Virgil firmly.

Virgil had tried to be gentle – he didn’t actually impose _geasa_ on people all that often, and a lack of practice and the fact that Remus was significantly weaker than him meant Virgil didn’t have a lot of room for error as far as gentle _went_. Remus flinched, twitching with a low whine, and Virgil managed not to wince in sympathy. When Remus spoke again he was laughing, tense and wild, like a drugged, cornered animal.

“Oh, you’re a smug, self-satisfied bastard, aren’t you-”

“The thing is,” Virgil cut him off, “I really don’t want to kill you,”

Remus broke off abruptly, and the first emotion Virgil had seen in his face this whole time other than heartbroken _rage_ was utter bafflement.

“Not even a little,” Virgil continued.

Wary, then. Virgil shrugged.

“On the other hand,” he said, “If you do something stupid, like attack one of my consorts again, or start trouble in the name of a usurper who’s been dead more than a decade, you can see how that would make it difficult to _not_ kill you, right?”

Remus’s jaw flexed.

“Right?” Virgil prompted again.

Another wordless snarl, but Virgil did at least get a nod out of him.

“Alright,” he said, “I’m going to untie you now. If you bite me, I will knock you out,”

Remus didn’t, though it looked like it took him a significant amount of restraint, and it also looked like most of that restraint was actually _Virgil’s restraints._ Remus’s arms twitched around several times, aborted half-movements and quick lunges he jerked back from immediately. Virgil’s stomach churned.

After several moments of this Remus let out another low, spitting hiss, before he turned and made to stalk off into the trees.

“ _Bastard!_ ” came a cheerful voice.

Remus stopped cold, and Virgil blinked.

He’d kind of forgotten the bird could talk.

“ _Bastard!_ ” she chirped, “ _Bastard, pretty bird, give a kiss,”_

Remus’s fists were clenched at his sides.

“ _Pretty, pretty bird, pretty bird, don’t make me kill you,_ ” she continued, ruffling her neck feathers as much as she could in Finch’s grip, “ _Feather bastard, give a kiss,_ ”

Remus grabbed at the hair on the sides of his head, yanking furiously.

“Give him the bird,” said Logan quietly.

Finch glanced at Virgil for confirmation, and he nodded. Remus didn’t turn toward him as he approached, and Finch awkwardly moved in front of him and held out the bird.

There was a tense pause, but eventually Remus reached out his hands and took it from Finch, who stepped back immediately.

Remus squeezed suddenly, the bird squawking in protest, and for a nauseating second Virgil thought Remus was going to strangle it right there in front of them.

But then his hands relaxed, and the bird ruffled her feathers indignantly as he carefully clipped the chain on his belt back to her ankle.

“ _Bastard,”_ she chirped.

“Sorry, pretty bird,” he cooed quietly, “Pretty, pretty bird…”

He kept talking, mournful and soft, cradling the creature close to his chest as he walked off into the trees.

“Do you want me to have someone watch him?” said Bell, not looking at Virgil or Logan.

They exchanged looks.

“No,” said Logan after a pause, “Leave him be. He’ll only get more volatile if he’s being followed,”

Bell agreed with a tight nod, and then, in a very uncharacteristic display of complete disregard for etiquette, turned on her heel and walked back to the revel without another word.

The other knights hesitated but Virgil waved them off vaguely, and they followed her. Logan reached for him, and Virgil gathered him up tightly in his arms and set his chin on Logan’s head.

“You can go after them, to the hill,” said Logan, “I can attend to the revel,”

“ _You_ can also go to the hill,” said Virgil dryly, “And I can stay at the revel,”

Logan huffed a little.

“Point made,”

Virgil kissed his forehead.

“We’ll- we’ll just have to deal with it in the morning,” he said.

Logan nodded. He took Virgil by the hand, and they walked back toward the waiting, probably gawking crowd, and Virgil tried to think of nothing but Logan’s fingers between his own.

—

Virgil had expressed that he did not want to resort to violence in dealing with Remus, and Logan agreed wholeheartedly.

Not least because upon returning to their other husbands in the morning, Roman had been absolutely ashen, and only barely improved upon learning Remus had departed unharmed, if in frankly abysmal spirits.

The issue then became that Logan came to understand Remus was actively attempting to invite violence on himself.

At first, Logan had assumed Remus was merely trying to ascertain what exactly had happened, years ago. He heard frequent complaints of him grabbing and interrogating sprites for details, infringing on other Seelie’s territories with incessant questions, even some grumblings from Unseelie, though Logan usually didn’t hear about those directly.

Two weeks of that, and Logan was very much not looking forward to the full moon revel – he suspected it was going to be, to quote Roman, a total shitshow.

Logan did remember Remus, vaguely, though he had never spoken to him. It had been… a very _odd_ experience, to see him again, because Logan had been perhaps fifteen, at the time, and Remus had seemed much older than him.

The sensation of having simply passed a frozen-in-adolescence Remus in age entirely was deeply unsettling. He wondered if this had anything in common with the way Virgil’s sister had felt as she’d aged into adulthood and he hadn’t, and resolved to keep the thought to himself.

So Logan did have an idea of the sort of chaos Remus tended towards – more so than Virgil (which was a rare occurrence) who had never even heard of him. No one could seem to tell Logan how old Remus actually was, so Logan wasn’t even sure if he’d been _born_ before Virgil’s enchanted sleep.

Even if Remus didn’t attempt to violate Virgil’s binding outright and publicly harm himself in the process, Logan thought he would almost certainly try to cause some kind of scene with Roman, which, if it didn’t invite violence from _Virgil,_ would probably invite at least some retaliation from Bell. She was frequently rather overly violent on Roman’s behalf.

Logan, Virgil, and Patton all tried to convince Roman not to come, all of them offering to be the one to stay behind with him - but Roman insisted, because prioritizing his own safety (physical, emotional, or mental) was a habit not a single force on earth had ever managed to successfully instill in his husband.

Logan’s prediction was partially correct – the revel did not go well.

What he had _not_ predicted correctly was that Remus did not so much as look at Roman, and he was not attempting to violate the binding at all – he simply seemed to be doing his best to be as utterly obnoxious as possible, to everyone he could manage to remain in the personal space of for longer than three seconds.

This was not, in and of itself, concerning. It at least seemed to fall within the bounds of what little Logan remembered of Remus’s behavior. They made it through the revel with little more than a few uncomfortable silences between the four of them whenever Remus made a particular spectacle of himself, and Logan breathed a sigh of relief.

The pattern of behavior continued. Logan wouldn’t have thought anything of it, had somebody else not brought it to his attention.

The last person he expected to bring fae political minutiae to his attention was his _mother,_ but then again Logan was almost thirty years old and still wasn’t entirely sure his mother didn’t just know everything.

“Woah, woah, _woah,_ Linny, please- _”_

Linda let out a peal of laughter, not slowing down in the slightest as she dove between Thomas and Harley for her cousin and dragged him off up the stairs.

“Shoes- Linny! Your _shoes,_ sweetheart- and, there she goes,”

“There she does indeed go,” Harley agreed, “Your daughter is a small hurricane,”

“Have you met her father?” said Thomas, “Lord of the Forest, smells like blizzard and ozone? Ring any bells?”

“I am sure you think you are hilarious,” said Logan, rolling his eyes at the both of them.

“I am hilarious and you know it,”

“Debatable,”

“Hello, Logan!” called Mom from the kitchen.

“Hello, Mom,” he called back, making a short detour to call up the stairs and remind Linda to remove her shoes - better late than never, and she was very muddy - before he made his way to the kitchen.

“Do you need assistance?” he asked.

“Nah, just sit for me, honey,” she said, “It’s kinda important,”

Logan frowned. It was about that time that he noticed Thomas and Harley had not followed him into the kitchen.

Mom set a mug of tea in front of him as she sat down on the other side of the table.

“What is going on?” said Logan warily.

“I have no idea,” said Mom matter-of-factly, “I was hoping you could tell me,”

She blew on her tea before continuing.

“I drove past Fletcher Graveyard yesterday,” she said bluntly, “And there was a stranger sitting on Verge’s sisters grave,”

Panic seized in Logan’s chest.

“Also,” she continued, “He waved,”

“Goodness gracious,” Logan muttered.

“I figured I ought to tell someone,” she said, “But I thought Verge might- you know,”

Mom made an explosion motion near her temple with a funny face that made Logan laugh a little hysterically.

“Can you describe him?” said Logan, though he was certain he already knew the answer.

“Well, I was a little far away,” she said, “Kinda pale, dark brown hair? Very fluffy dark green coat, it kinda looked like it was made of moss, to be honest,”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, restraining a petulant noise. Mom patted him on the arm.

Logan had no idea what Remus was doing at – or god forbid, _to –_ Greta Fischer’s grave, but the list of possibilities was very long and absolutely full of things that would result in his immediate death. Virgil was… well, not _touchy,_ touchy rather implied he didn’t have cause, but- somewhat sensitive, about the sanctity of Greta’s grave, in light of the theft of part of her body, however small that part had been.

Logan went later that same day, though he was unsure how often Remus went, so he had no guarantee he would be there. Logan was passable at glamours, but this was a fairly simple one – a slight bend to the sunbeams around him to make him unnoticeable as he came around the rear of the church and watched through the trees.

Remus _was_ there. He was not sitting on the headstone as Mom had described, but rather… Logan supposed _lounging_ was the most apropos word, across the grave with the back of his head against the headstone, his neck propped at what seemed like a very uncomfortable angle.

As Logan watched, Remus knocked his head several times against the stone, and Logan winced.

He walked a little closer, silently. Remus’s lips were moving, and as he approached he was able to hear the words.

“-I’d even say I appreciated the creativity if I didn’t hate you with every cell in my body,”

Logan winced again.

“Don’t know what a guy has to do to piss people off these days,” Remus continued, waving his foot around in the air, “Everyone’s so _calm_ , it’s _so_ boring,”

Logan leaned against a tree, frowning.

“If I could just-”

Remus made a frustrated noise, suddenly swinging the mace Logan hadn’t noticed on his other side through the air and letting it fall on the other side.

“That’d definitely get him after me. But nope!” said Remus, “That’s ‘vengeance’ apparently, or at least close enough. Don’t see why it should count, it’s just a rock with some words carved on it, he could fix it easy,”

Remus reached back to knock firmly on the headstone, and Logan realized a number of things in succession.

Remus was discussing vandalizing Mrs. Fischer’s gravestone with a bludgeoning weapon. He seemed to want to do so for the express purpose of upsetting Virgil, and did not seem to _personally_ consider his intentions to be explicit vengeance. He had also described trying to upset other fae deliberately as well, and frustration that it was not working.

An ugly, uncomfortable shape was taking form.

This was _not_ Logan’s area of expertise.

Should he get Patton? Emile, he was a psychiatrist. A fae therapist? Did fae _have_ therapists? That seemed like an ill-advised venture for literally everyone involved…

Logan considered.

There were magical options available to him, technically. Remus was a Summer, and as the head of the Seelie court, Logan was just as capable of imposing bindings on Remus as Virgil was. He could stop him from harming himself, or seeking out harm.

It didn’t sound right, though Logan couldn’t tell why. Surely preventing him from harming himself took precedence over the usual distaste that came with imposing magical restrictions on people?

But regardless, Logan didn’t think he’d be able to do it, even if he had been sure it was the correct decision.

Well. It seemed as if Logan only had one immediate option – he was going to have to trick him.

Logan hated what Roman mockingly referred to as “fae word gymnastics,” but he had at least gotten fairly good at them over the course of his life.

Logan let the glamour fall, and stepped out of the trees into Remus’s line of sight.

Remus beamed the second he saw Logan, sitting up and draping himself over the headstone in what he probably thought was a suggestive pose and but instead just gave the impression he was rather drunk.

“Hello, Remus,”

“Hey, Snowmelt. Here to tell me off?”

Logan shrugged.

“Maybe,” he said, “Have you done anything for which you need to be told off?”

Remus made a sweeping gesture to the whole of himself and finished it with a little circle around the grave.

“I’m being very disrespectful to the Prince’s favorite corpse, can’t you tell?”

Logan very carefully did not react.

“Have you damaged it in some way?”

“Maybe you should check,” he said, grinning.

“So, no,” said Logan.

“I didn’t say that,”

“I know you didn’t, I did,” said Logan, “If you had done anything to the witch’s body you would be bragging about it, not deflecting,”

Remus’s smile didn’t twitch, but he was tense around the eyes.

“Have you damaged the headstone?” he continued.

“That’s a whole thing for mortals, isn’t it?” said Remus, “Thinking they gotta have the name on the grave or they can’t get into the afterlife. So sad,”

“Your attempts to imply you have damaged the name on the headstone are somewhat impaired by the fact that I can see it,” Logan said dryly, “So you have done nothing to the body, and nothing to the grave except exist in its proximity?”

Remus’s smile finally fell into a petulant frown.

“Well,” said Logan, hoping his limited acting skills were going to be sufficient for this, “Thank you,”

Remus blinked.

“… What.”

Logan gestured to the grave.

“The grass will benefit from your presence, perhaps even encourage some flowers. There is no ghost here, anymore, but the Prince has expressed fondness for people who have kept his sister’s grave company,”

That list was limited exclusively to Patton, and would likely not extend to Remus _at all,_ but hopefully Remus would not pick up on that.

“Overall, your presence here will have little actual impact on the witch’s grave, and that little impact is a net positive,” Logan concluded with another shrug, “So, thank you,”

Remus was outright scowling now, his teeth gritted in fury.

“Aren’t I being disrespectful?” he needled.

Logan smiled, a little more real, because this part at least was not a lie.

“I never properly knew my husband’s sister,” said Logan, “But I understand them to share a number of personality traits, and I am certain she put very little stock in what is or is not ‘respectful.’ I suspect she would be amused by your irreverence,”

Remus sputtered a little, standing up from his leaning position and stomping petulantly.

“But-!”

Logan waited.

After a moment, Remus let out a frustrated shriek and turned to march off toward the forest.

Logan could leave it there. He’d done what he’d set out to do, keep Remus from being fixated here until Virgil noticed and did something he would possibly regret afterward.

“Remus,” he said. Blurted, really.

“ _What?”_ the other Green Man snapped.

_Why did you really come here? Am I right? What are you trying to accomplish?_

“… I hope your day improves,” Logan finished quietly.

Remus’s face twisted into a sneer, and he didn’t even respond as he continued into the trees.

Logan didn’t know what he’d been expecting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Corn Smut](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corn_smut) (the names only funny to us) is a fungal parasite that grows on, well, corn (also maize and teosinte). Its edible and is a delicacy in mexico
> 
> The described mushroom species is intend to be _[Inocybe aeruginascens](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inocybe_aeruginascens),_ a mycorrhizal species that contains [psilocybin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psilocybin), a psychoactive. It grows on oak and willow roots, as well at linden and poplar.
> 
> The song is Blackbird by The Beatles
> 
> The plants mentioned are [poison ivy](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toxicodendron_radicans) ( _Toxicodendron radicans_ ), [doll’s eyes](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Actaea_pachypoda) ( _Actaea pachypoda,_ also called white baneberry), and the parasitic plants [American Mistletoe](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phoradendron_leucarpum) ( _Phoradendron leucarpem,_ which looks a little different than the European variety you usually see, when they bother to not just use holly anyway) and [Field Dodder](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuscuta_campestris) ( _Cuscuta campestris,_ which is related to Morning Glories)
> 
> BIG NOTE: This got just a touch too long to be one chapter, but not quite enough for me to split it in two, so there will be a shorter Epilogue coming fairly soon (the rough draft is already done so it should be pretty speedy, gods willing)
> 
> and thank you to [@trivia-goddess](trivia-goddess.tumblr.com) for beta reading and also for the pep talk that is a huge if not the sole reason this didnt take another week at the minimum - you rock and i love you very much!!!

“Kitty-girl,” said Logan dryly, “You are supposed to toss me the apples so I can place them in the bucket, sweetheart,”

“I am!” Linda called back, leaning over the branch she was perched on several feet above Logan’s head.

“Then what are you eating?”

A short pause.

“I’m, um, throwing you most of ‘em, so I think it’s okay?”

Logan shook his head, smiling fondly.

“You are going to get sticky,”

“That’s okay, Papa, I don’t mind!”

That broke May, sitting in her chair at the base of the tree, who fell into a fit of snickering. Logan gave her an unimpressed look. When he turned back to Linda she was smiling very smugly, as she usually did when she successfully made people laugh, whether she’d done it intentionally or not.

“We’ve almost filled the bucket,” said Logan, “But if you would rather be done, you can come down and I will do the rest myself. I know we have been doing the same thing for a while,”

“No, I’m fine, really!” said Linda, hopping to another branch. Most parents would probably be significantly more concerned (and perhaps he _should_ be; she _was_ very high off the ground) but Logan knew very well Linda was only marginally more likely to fall out of a tree than _Virgil_.

Logan moved up another rung on the ladder to compensate for Linda’s movement to the other branch. She tossed him several more apples in succession, and Logan placed them in the five-gallon bucket they had set (perhaps… slightly precariously) in the bend of two lower branches.

Logan himself was more inclined towards flowers and herbs and certain kinds of vegetables – and seeing as Linda was Unseelie, none of them had been expecting her to take after _Logan_ when it came to plants.

But fruit, apparently, was Linda’s area of expertise. She delighted in May’s apple trees, and Logan was probably going to have to make an entire separate garden next year for how enthusiastic her pumpkins seemed to be coming in.

“Specs,” May called up suddenly.

Logan frowned a little. May wasn’t prone to calling him that – it was a little odd for her to do so unprompted.

“Yes, Nana?” he replied, looking down at her.

“I think we have a guest,” she said calmly, her gaze fixed steadily on something off in the trees.

Logan’s frown deepened, and he twisted on the ladder to follow her gaze.

The noise that rumbled out of his chest was not remotely human and even less voluntary.

Judging by the gleeful expression on his face, it was also exactly the reaction Remus had been trying to elicit from him.

“Kitty,” said Logan, trying to keep his voice calm. He must not have succeeded, because Linda went very still in the way Logan usually only saw when she was about to pounce on some unsuspecting field mouse or other small wild animal.

“Can you come here, please?” he said.

Linda didn’t answer, just immediately climbed down through the branches to come to a stop right in front of him.

Logan held out one arm, and Linda looped both her own around his neck and held on tight. Something relaxed in his chest – barely – at having ahold of her. Slowly descending the ladder, Logan tried to keep an equally firm hold on the bubbling, territorial _rage_ in his chest.

Remus was _trying_ to upset him – but he couldn’t actually do anything to Linda, or May, as long as Virgil’s binding held. Logan was not going to rise to the bait, no matter how furious he was at that fact that Remus was willfully trespassing on their property.

He reached the ground, hitching Linda up a little higher on his hip and affecting the calmest tone of voice he could manage.

“Hello, Remus,”

Remus wiggled his fingers in a mocking wave.

“I _heard_ you had a seedling,” he crooned, “Pretty thing,”

Logan tried very hard not to react, and aside from holding Linda perhaps just a hair too tightly, he thought he succeeded. Linda, for her part, ignored the tension like she hadn’t a care in the world.

“Hello,” she said, waving at Remus, “What do I call you?”

He smiled, though it didn’t look like there was anything truly happy in it.

“Call me Remus,”

Linda wrinkled her nose at the phrasing, tilting her head to tuck it into Logan’s neck.

“You can call me Bobby,” she said.

“Ah, yes, you’re a little kitten, aren’t you?” said Remus, “Not very bobcat of you to be eating apples,”

Linda shrugged, swinging her legs.

“Daddy gets kinda grossed out when I eat animals the, um, bobcat way. He says they might have par-a-sites,”

Remus didn’t react for almost a full three seconds, and the air was so silent Logan heard what he was fairly certain was Jax alighting on a branch nearby. Remus’s eyes narrowed.

“…You can eat parasites,”

“Do _not_ tell her that,” said Logan sharply.

Remus frowned.

“You can!”

“I can!?” exclaimed Linda, baffled and clearly very intrigued.

May wasn’t saying anything at all, but Logan got the feeling she was amused anyway. Remus continued to look both very unhappy and very torn.

“You can,” said Remus, “Lots of parasites, like corn smut, and all sorts of mushrooms-”

“What sorts?” exclaimed Linda.

“Well there’s one that grows on the roots of oaks and willows, and if you eat you see all sorts of weird shit-”

“Are you describing a _hallucinogen?_ ” demanded Logan.

“Well, yeah but you _can_ eat it,”

“What’s a halu- a halu-sha-bin?” said Linda.

“A snack that gives you visions,”

“That is not-”

Logan’s voice stuttered, and he resisted the urge to gnash his teeth.

“That is a… dangerous oversimplification,” said Logan tightly.

Remus crossed his arms, scowling.

“Well, you’re no fun,”

“Hey!” said Linda, offended, “Papa’s a lot of fun,”

“I doubt that,”

“He is!” insisted Linda, “He makes flower crowns and he does puzzles with me,”

Remus got a sly look on his face.

“I could give you a puzzle,”

“The hell you will,” said May. Logan was inclined to agree.

Remus turned to May, who he hadn’t seemed to pay any attention to at all up until now, and the smile turned half-sneer.

“You look familiar,” he said mockingly, “Roman if he was a shriveled, ugly hag,”

Logan couldn’t contain the snarl, but it cut off fairly quickly, seeing as he’d had something of an echo. He blinked down at Linda, who had made a noise not dissimilar to an irate Dizzy.

Remus snorted.

“Did I upset you, seedling?” he cooed mockingly.

“You-!”

Linda wriggled in Logan’s grip, like she was going to clamor right out of his arms and attack Remus, which was obviously a _horrible_ idea and Logan was not going to allow it, but was admittedly not expecting.

“Kitty-girl, please calm down,” said Logan.

“No!” said Linda, “He’s- he’s being _mean,_ it is _not_ nice to be mean, he’s a- a jerk!”

“Well- yes,” said Logan.

“I’m a big girl, Miss Kitty,” said May dryly, “I can handle a bitchy Green Man. I knew yer Papa when he was a teenager,”

“ _Nana,”_

“ _Bitchy?”_ Remus shrieked.

“Did I stutter?” May drawled.

“I wonder if you’ll stutter if I tear your tongue out, crone,”

“Remus,” Logan said warningly. Linda hid her face in his neck.

“Oh, what, are we meant to be gentle on the little ears?” he scoffed, “Bobby, what’s your opinion on tearing out tongues? Are you going to cry about it?”

“ _Remus,_ that is _enough,_ ” said Logan, placing his hand on the back of Linda’s head. She was starting to shake slightly.

“Oh, but in that case, she must not know all the unsavory shit her oath-breaking bastard of a father got up t-”

He froze.

He looked a bit like a buffering video, if buffering videos could look panicked and in pain, but Logan was a little too preoccupied to worry about just how badly Remus had (or nearly had) violated his compulsion, because that was when Linda started crying.

The sound grated like sandpaper on the inside of Logan’s eye sockets, nearly identical to Virgil’s voice with absolutely none of the self-control – but where Virgil’s voice intimidated, Linda’s _mourned,_ and Logan felt tears welling up unbidden in his eyes. May’s knuckles went bone-white on the arms of the wheelchair; Logan had just enough time to see Remus unfreeze and go ashen, staggering to his knees, before the earth around them revolted and the three of them were encased in a dome of rose bushes so thick Remus wasn’t visible at all.

“Sweetheart,” said Logan in a strained voice, lowering himself to the ground.

Linda was sobbing so hard her small shoulders heaved with it, and when Logan tried to set her on her feet as he sat she immediately scrambled back into his lap. Fat tears were welling in the corners of her scrunched eyes, and Logan felt both heartbroken on her behalf and slightly relieved that they’d left her blanket inside – there was no way Virgil wouldn’t have noticed this if they hadn’t.

“May I have your hands, sweetheart?” he croaked, ignoring the tears streaming down his own face.

Linda took several hitching breaths, slowly releasing her grip on his shirt and placing her hands on his palms. He squeezed them gently.

“We are going to take a big breath, okay?”

Linda nodded with a little gasp.

Logan placed one of their joined hands on his chest and demonstrated. Linda followed as best she could, but Logan hadn’t expected it to work perfectly the first time.

“Very good, sweetheart,” he said gently, “Let’s try again,”

It took quite a few rounds of this to calm her – Logan eventually added a count, when he thought possible failure might not further distress her, and at some point, May had laid her hand on his shoulder.

Linda sniffed pitifully.

“… I feel better now,” she said quietly.

“I’m very glad,” said Logan, wiping her face and then his own with his sleeve.

“Sorry,” she said, even softer.

“Don’t apologize,” said Logan, a little sharper than he meant to, and May smacked the side of his head lightly.

“What I mean is,” said Logan, gentler, “Remus was being unpleasant on purpose, and trying to upset you. You have done nothing wrong by reacting accordingly,”

“He’s a jerk,” Linda muttered petulantly.

“He is,” Logan and May agreed in unison, May significantly more acidic.

“I’m still, um, sorry I hurt you’n Mamaw,” she said, “With the… shouting,”

“Then I accept your apology,” said Logan.

“You’re fine, sweet girl,” said May, “I dare say I’ll live,”

Logan did not point out that May’s hands were shaking, and resolved to double-check later as he let the rose bush collapse around them.

He was expecting Remus to have fled in the interim – it hadn’t occurred to Logan that he might have been too affected to do so, a least until Remus came back into view, kneeling in the same spot with his hands cupped on the back of his head and shaking even more than Linda had been.

No one spoke, or moved other than Remus’s shaking, for several moments.

Linda made a sort of half movement, not quite pulling away from Logan but certainly _toward_ Remus – Logan tightened his grip on her hands immediately.

“Kitty-”

“I hurt’im,” she said mournfully.

Logan swallowed.

“Remus is-”

 _An adult,_ Logan meant to say, but his voice failed.

“Remus is much older than you, Kitty,” He managed, “You are not at fault for this altercation,”

Linda considered.

“But- but I thought, um, I’m not allowed to hit other kids back,” said Linda, “Because- because I’m stronger, and I could hurt them really bad,”

She was growing distressed again, and Logan wanted to tear his hair out in frustration.

“Papa, what if I hurt him really bad?” she said anxiously.

Remus let out a choked noise that could have been a scoff or a particularly rough sob, and Linda lurched toward him again. Logan’s own stomach gave an uncomfortable twist at the same time.

“… Remus,” said Logan, keeping hold of Linda, “Are you grievously injured?”

A pause, and when Remus looked up his expression did nothing to assist Logan in discerning if he was laughing or crying.

“Spicy little shit, aren’t you?” he said thickly.

Linda tilted her head.

“You’re bein’ a real big bully, Mr. Remus,” said Linda, “And, um, I’m gonna try not to get upset again, ‘cuz it’s not super safe, but you prob’ly should, um, not be mean, too,”

Remus was shaking his head, and his voice finally seemed to settle on laughter.

“What the fuck is _wrong_ with you people?” he said, a little hysterically.

“ _Language,”_ snapped Logan.

Remus threw his hands up in the air.

“That, _that_ \- fucking- _language?_ You’re mad about me saying _‘fuck’_ in front of your spawn, _that’s_ what you’re _fucking focusing on right now?”_

“Gee,” said Linda, “That was fifteen _whole_ dollars in one sentence!”

Logan felt a distinct sense of _alarm_ at the fact that she sounded _impressed._

“I am upset about a number of your behaviors at the moment,” said Logan sharply, “It is not _remotely_ limited to your cursing in front of my daughter, but it is the one for which I have something of a pre-established response,”

Grinning around gritted teeth, Remus pulled angrily on some of his own hair.

“You _don’t_ have a ‘pre-established response’ for trespassers and people who make your rabid little crotch-goblin cry?”

“No, I do not,” said Logan icily, “Most people are not nearly so _stupid,”_

Linda poked him gently on the shoulder.

“Stupid’s a mean word, Papa,”

Instantly, Remus let out a groan of slightly frenzied laughter. Linda perked up with a smile and no, _no_ , absolutely _not,_ that was _entirely_ unacceptable-

“Oh, you _are_ a little terror, aren’t you?” laughed Remus.

Linda bounced on her toes slightly, excited.

“Well, um, I think so because Mamaw and Pop call me that a lot, but you were kinda mean so I’m not sure if you mean it in a nice way, ‘cuz we’re not friends. But if you want to be friends-”

“Kitty,” said Logan, already exhausted.

“What?” she said curiously.

Logan pursed his lips.

“I don’t think your parents would be too _excited_ if we were friends, little brat, so we should _definitely do that,_ ”

“Absolutely not,” said Logan.

“But Papa!” exclaimed Linda.

Logan resisted the urge to groan; he now _definitely_ got the feeling May was trying not to laugh.

“Remus would be an abysmal influence and a dangerous companion for a small child,” said Logan, as even as he could, “I believe befriending him is an ill-advised venture,”

Linda stomped her foot slightly, crossing her arms. She was going to dig her heels in now, Logan could already tell. She was, after all, quite a bit spoiled, and Logan thought a little dryly that he was just as complicit in said spoiling as the rest of his husbands and therefore just as to blame for the upset that was sure to come now.

“Well, come here then, pretty kitten,” said Remus, “I’ll take you on an adventure, see how long it takes your parents to chase us down,”

“Like tag?” said Linda.

Remus shook his head.

“No, like kidnapping and being hunted down by grims and wisht hounds,” he said flatly.

“You do know I literally have ahold of her, don’t you?” said Logan.

“You’ve got claws, Bobby, poke him a bit and come here,”

“ _Remus,”_

Linda narrowed her eyes.

“That sounds really stranger-danger-y,” she sighed, “I _wanna_ be your friend but you keep makin’ it _weird,_ ”

May snorted, and Remus frowned, crossing his arms. In that moment he and Linda looked equally petulant, and Logan was rapidly developing a headache behind his left eye.

“Yes, well,” said Remus dryly, “It’s not like I _can_ hurt you, we’re just going for a walk to piss off your fathers,”

“I am _standing right here,_ ” said Logan, exasperated, “And I can _hear you. S_ he is _not_ going anywhere with you,”

Remus scowled.

“Whatever,” he muttered, turning away.

“Hey, wait!” exclaimed Linda.

“Ugh, what?” Remus groaned.

“You still haven’t answered Papa’s question!” she said, scandalized.

Remus just blinked at her, clearly lost.

Linda sighed, long-suffering.

“Are you _hurt?_ ” she said pointedly.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“Your father doesn’t actually care if I’m hurt,”

“That is not true,”

Remus reared back like Logan had slapped him. Frowning, Logan tilted his head.

“I would not have asked if I did not think the information was important,” said Logan, “I did not press the issue because you seemed mostly unharmed. Was this an incorrect assumption?”

Remus didn’t answer, merely continued staring.

“Mr. Remus?” said Linda.

Remus’s jaw worked back and forth for several moments.

“… Not your fault, Bobby,” he managed.

“Wait,” said Logan, “So you-”

“Goodbye,” blurted Remus.

He half-stumbled backwards, sudden and graceless, lunging for a sunbeam. Logan recognized the glamour, but recognizing it didn’t make it any easier to see through – Remus became impossible to look directly at, and by the time Logan managed to call out after him, he’d seemingly vanished.

“So,” said May dryly, “He seems friendly,”

Linda twisted in Logan’s grip, nodding enthusiastically at her grandmother.

“And super weird!” she said, “When do you think he’ll come back? I wanna know more about ha-lu-sha-bins,”

“Of course you do,” muttered Logan.

May actually knew a fair amount about hallucinogens herself, and she could rarely be convinced to table learning opportunities for later ages. She began explaining a rather simplified version to Linda, and Logan resigned himself to being on the receiving end of Patton’s exasperated expression when their preschooler daughter inevitably brought up psychedelics in front of him.

But he couldn’t help the way his eyes kept straying to the spot Remus had stood – in pain, apparently, and, Logan knew, not fond of their family at all.

And still, for some reason, able to find it in himself to reassure the child of people he hated.

It was something. Logan just didn’t know what that something was.

_—_

“He was _**here?**_ ” hissed Virgil.

“Yes,” said Logan evenly, fiddling a little with the collar of Virgil’s hoodie, “And please lower your voice, dear,”

Virgil closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“What happened?” said Patton.

“He antagonized us, but he did not attempt any physical harm,”

“ _Physical?”_ said Virgil darkly.

Logan sighed, and Virgil’s hands were nearly twitching with rage. Logan slipped his own hands down Virgil’s chest to take them, and Patton leaned firmly into his side. Roman was behind Patton, his arms around his waist and his forehead pressed to his shoulder.

“He made Linny cry,” said Logan bluntly.

Virgil’s already-weak calm evaporated in a flurry of enraged clicking noises, and Patton shivered just a little. Virgil saw Roman’s face contort and managed to cut them off when Logan squeezed his hands.

“I’m going to-”

“ _Wait,”_ said Logan firmly, “There is more. I don’t want you to make a decision until you know the full scope of the situation,”

Virgil bit his tongue.

Logan glanced at the back door – the four of them were in the sun-room, Mamaw having remained inside with Linda.

“I believe Remus is attempting to… indirectly commit suicide,” said Logan.

Virgil recoiled slightly. Roman’s grip on Patton was looking slightly uncomfortable, and Patton wrapped his hand around Roman’s wrist.

“He cannot do much to us directly,” Logan continued, “Last month, he was loitering near your sister’s grave- _loitering,_ Virgil he did nothing to it,”

Virgil was barely keeping a lid on his anger, and Patton reached down to squeeze his forearm.

“I managed to-”

Logan waved his hand around.

“Metaphorically word-gymnastics him away from that course of action, but I heard him speaking. Combined with this morning’s events, I am now certain he is attempting to drive us to kill him through the only means left to him,”

“What, being… being annoying?” said Patton.

“Yes,” said Logan, “He has been doing it to nearly everyone in the forest, though he seems to be fairly determined for it to be one of us,”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It was all posturing,” he continued, frustrated, “Not even _subtle_ posturing. He had no intention of hurting any of us. I’m not even convinced he would have _had_ such intentions if he _could,_ he is-”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek briefly.

“He is just… miserable,” he finished quietly.

Virgil frowned.

“… I have no idea what to do about that,” he said finally.

“Welcome to the proverbial club,” said Logan dryly.

“Well, he needs _help,_ doesn’t he?” said Patton.

“The issue becoming that the only remotely qualified person we know of to help him is _Emile,_ ” said Logan, “And I, for one, am _deeply_ unsettled by the prospect of locking Remus in a room with him for an hour and demanding he _share his feelings,_ let alone doing it regularly for the amount of time such therapies usually take,”

Patton winced. Virgil thought that was… unfortunately, a very good point.

“ _Is_ there some kind of… fae health care?” said Patton.

Virgil shook his head. The anger had mostly given way now to powerless frustration.

“Healers, for physical things, though usually only really bad wounds that might not heal on their own,” he said, shrugging, “For- for emotional things…”

He went quiet.

“Yeah?” Patton prompted.

Virgil held out his hands, smiling bitterly.

“We are a lot sturdier than mortals physically,” he said, “But _emotionally?_ ”

He shrugged again, helplessly.

“If he’s that miserable?” said Virgil, quiet, “I’m surprised he hasn’t just… died of grief all on his own,”

“That can _happen?_ ” said Patton, pained.

“Rarely, but yes,” said Virgil.

Nobody spoke for a long time, and Virgil watched Patton trace little circles on the back of Roman’s palms.

Logan sighed.

“So,” he said tiredly, “Until we uncover a solution, I suppose we can continue to expect more incidences of him antagonizing us. We could place him under further compulsions, but I’m certain he will refuse to give up, regardless. At what point would they become so unwieldy they would harm him? Or cause more than one of them to conflict outright and kill him anyway?”

Roman’s breath was turning a little unsteady.

“Roman, honey?” said Patton, squeezing his wrist again, “You’ve been awful quiet. What do you think?”

Virgil nodded, and Patton gave another squeeze to his hand. Virgil felt _exhausted_ , and if he was struggling, having all this dragged back up when he’d much rather never even think about his brother again, Roman must be outright suffering.

It made Virgil want to- to _shout_ , or just grab something useless and tear it to bits in his frustration.

Roman took a deep inhale.

“… We can’t just let him do whatever he wants,” said Roman. His voice was dull and flat, absolutely nothing of his usual exuberance.

Patton stroked Roman’s forearm.

“We won’t,” said Logan, “We will figure something out,”

“And if we don’t?”

“We _will_ ,” Logan repeated firmly.

Roman blinked just a little faster than normal, and Virgil reached out to soothe his fingers through Roman’s hair. Roman leaned into it, smiling a bit. There was little joy in it, but it was, at least, not clearly a false one.

“Okay,” said Roman softly, “We will,”

He kissed Patton’s cheek, standing up straight and tilting his head up in his usual silent demand for one from Virgil. Virgil obliged him, and Logan leaned in without prompting to peck Roman on the cheek.

When they entered the house, Linda was sitting on the rug in the living room, chattering happily at May while she absently batted the end of her grandmother’s yarn ball around the floor.

“Hi!” she called.

“Hey, Princess,” said Roman.

“I’m real glad you’re not gonna kill Mr. Remus!” she said brightly.

May stopped knitting, and Virgil tried not to visibly wince.

“… You heard that, huh?” said Roman. That smile was back, sheepish and… sad.

Linda nodded. She seemed unconcerned.

“Yeah,” she said, “I know eavesdroppin’s rude, but, um, you didn’t go far enough away, I think. I didn’t sneak up on you, or anything,”

Roman came over to scoop her up off the floor.

“I forgot what good ears you have,” he teased, tweaking one of them. Linda giggled, batting at his hand.

“Thank you!” she chirped.

She tucked her face into his neck.

“I think, um, I think we should be his friends,”

“Do you?” said Roman weakly.

Linda nodded.

“He was very mean to you,” said Roman, quiet.

“Well, yeah,” she said, swinging her legs. She didn’t continue.

“Why do you think that, then?” he asked.

Linda shrugged noncommittally.

“Just ‘cause?” he teased a little.

Linda stuck her tongue out at him.

“You do stuff just ‘cause all the time,” she grumbled.

“Drag’im, baby,” said May.

“Traitor,”

May snorted.

“Linda’s got my first, undyin’ loyalty and _you_ damn well know it,”

“Fair enough,”

“What’s that mean?” asked Linda, “Did I win?”

Roman laughed, and nearly all the clinging darkness fell away from his face. Virgil felt something in his chest relax, and noticed a bit of tension bleeding out of Patton and Logan on either side of him.

“Yeah, Kitty-girl,” said Roman, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You win,”

—

Patton would admit, he had no idea what Remus was thinking.

The thought of him trying to… to _goad_ someone into hurting him tied Patton’s stomach in a hundred horrible little knots, but now that Logan had told him, Patton was a least expecting it. Or, kinda expecting it, because-

Over the years, Patton had gotten a little used to… well, playing damsel, he guessed was the most accurate term. It didn’t really hurt his feelings – Virgil and Logan were powerful fae, and Roman was a witch _and_ a knight. Patton was well aware he didn’t look all that intimidating, and voice or not, he was mostly just a garden-variety human. If a given fae in the court decided to mess with one of them, they usually picked Patton.

Besides – being underestimated also had its advantages.

So Patton _was_ expecting Remus to bother him.

He just wasn’t expecting him to do it during one of White’s lessons, when none of his husbands would be around to see.

“Lessons” was also probably not an accurate term for what they did these days. More… maintenance. A bit of regular stretching, especially if Patton hadn’t been using it much. White honestly didn’t even need to be there, but Patton looked forward to the hours he could spend with her, just the two of them.

She was in her more fuzzy form, just then, lounging on the forest floor with her not-quite-a-fox head resting on his thigh. Patton was sitting too, his voice ringing through the treetops – this was one of his favorite tricks.

“ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night; take these sunken eyes and learn to see…”_

He didn’t _have_ to sing this particular song to do this, but Patton thought it was too appropriate _not_ to. Hopping in the leaf litter, in the bushes, and along the branches of the trees were dozens of birds, in shades of gray to black – crows, swallows, starlings, and on one very high branch a particularly confused looking peregrine falcon.

The trick being only calling for the black birds, and not any colorful ones. It was a finicky thing to do, and Patton had to concentrate very carefully on keeping his thoughts all gray-scale and neutral without turning them sharp. It took a lot out of him.

White helped – she was, well, _white,_ and if Patton found his thoughts straying toward the rainbow he could just turn his eyes on her and let her colorless fur blot it out until they were silvery-soft once again.

White rolled suddenly, her head perking up. There was a stutter of yellow in Patton’s thoughts, and then White stood up, tense, until she was crouched next to him.

Patton cut off abruptly, and at nearly the same moment a green figure stepped out of the trees with a shout and the birds scattered. The peregrine let out a very displeased noise as it took off.

“Look, Eulalia,” said Remus, “They’re having a bird party and didn’t invite you,”

“ _Feather bird,”_

“Very rude,” said Remus, nodding like he was agreeing with her.

Patton gave him a wary look – White hadn’t moved since she’d sat up fully.

“Hello, Remus,” said Patton, “Was there something you wanted?”

Remus smiled.

“Are you gonna give it to me if I say?”

Patton frowned.

“Why don’t you tell me first, and we’ll see,” he said slowly.

Remus pouted.

Patton honestly had no idea what to expect. Maybe Remus had figured out about Virgil’s charms? They didn’t exactly _advertise_ them, but maybe he’d put the pieces together from all the stories of Virgil just magically knowing when the rest of them were in danger?

“That’s a pretty white thing you have there,”

Patton felt his spine go stone-still. White still hadn’t moved.

A slow smile spread across Remus’s face.

“Maybe too pretty,” he said mockingly, “There aren’t that many of you, are there?”

He turned to Patton.

“Have your _husbands_ ever taken you on hunt, Birdie? That’s where _I’ve_ seen most white things,”

White did move then, almost imperceptibly – the barest shift in her weight, like she was about to leap into a dead sprint.

Patton inhaled deeply.

Alright. That- somehow, Patton hadn’t been expecting that. And he was trying not to think about the fact that it reminded him uncomfortably of those few glimpses Patton had seen of the _Night_ parts of Roman, all those years ago – the parts that knew exactly where to poke and prod, exactly what would hurt the most.

“I think you should sit down, kiddo,” said Patton quietly.

It wasn’t a compulsion. More of a… very firm suggestion. Remus could throw it off, if he really wanted to, but Patton probably hadn’t made it as easy to do so as he could have.

Remus twitched once, and then slowly folded into a sitting position. Eulalia flapped a couple of times and hopped down onto his knee.

“What did you say your bird’s name was?” said Patton gently.

“She’s not _my_ bird,” said Remus sharply.

Patton had no idea what White must be thinking – but he knew she trusted him, so he wasn’t surprised when she mirrored Remus and sat back down, carefully, resting her head back on Patton’s leg. Her eyes never left Remus.

“Okay,” said Patton, “ _The_ bird. What do you call it?”

Remus stared, and Patton looked back, unwavering.

“Eulalia,” Remus said gruffly.

“Eulalia,” Patton repeated, sweet and clear, and Remus twitched again. The bird perked up.

“It’s a lovely name,” said Patton, soothing, “Did you pick it, or did she have when you found her?”

Remus didn’t answer for nearly ten seconds, but Patton just waited patiently.

“I named her,”

Patton smiled.

“You picked well,”

“Are you mocking me?” said Remus. Patton couldn’t tell if he was angry or not – his voice was almost totally flat.

“Nope,” said Patton, a little ‘pop’ to the end of it, “It’s a very nice name,”

Patton held out his hand – not quite close enough that Remus could touch him, though Patton guessed he was probably pretty fast, so it didn’t make much of a difference. He gestured to the bird.

“May I?”

Remus just watched him blankly, and he didn’t answer.

“Eulalia,” cooed Patton.

Another _suggestion_ , but Eulalia was a bird, not a person, so she didn’t put up much of a fight. She trilled back, four notes, a perfect mirror of Patton’s when he’d said her name.

Remus lunged suddenly, grabbing Eulalia in both his hands and pulling her against his chest, ignoring her squawking protests.

“I think you’re hurting her, kiddo,” said Patton quietly.

Remus had gone a little wild around the eyes.

“Leave her alone,” he croaked.

Patton’s heart gave a little tremble.

“Oh, honey,” he said, shaking his head, “I’m not gonna hurt your bird,”

Remus didn’t correct him this time. He tucked Eulalia a little tighter against his chest.

“I’m really not,” said Patton, “And I’m not gonna hurt you either,”

“Why _not?_ ” said Remus.

And the worst part – the worst part was that Remus sounded genuinely, hopelessly confused. Like he couldn’t _fathom_ the idea that Patton was going to refuse to rise to the bait.

“We don’t hurt folks just for being jerks,” said Patton.

He cracked a smile.

“Even if you are being a _very_ big jerk,” he laughed.

Remus did _not_ laugh back.

“… I really think you should be gentler with the bird, kiddo,”

Remus startled, releasing Eulalia, who let out a short, indignant squeak, ruffling her feathers.

“ _Bastard,”_

Patton snorted, and White actually let out a short huff. Remus narrowed his eyes, clearly suspicious. There was another of those uncomfortably long pauses, and then-

“You know,”

Patton’s heart did another miserable clench.

“Yeah,” said Patton, “We do,”

Remus frowned, furious, looking down at the parrot in his hands and stroking her head softly.

“This is worse, you know,”

White was tense again, but it was a different tension. She shuffled, pressing her muzzle into Patton’s side a little.

“It isn’t,” said Patton, “I know you believe that. But it really isn’t,”

“What do you know about it?” said Remus bitterly, “You have everything you love,”

Patton hadn’t expected Remus to admit to something like that so easily – it was a painfully vulnerable thing to say to someone you didn’t know at all, especially for a fae – and he’d hadn’t been expecting it to feel like a lance to his chest at _all._

“Oh, _honey-”_

“ _Don’t,_ ” Remus snarled, “Don’t pretend like you _care-”_

“I _do_ care,” said Patton, and he hadn’t really known it was true until he said it but it _was._

“I do care, kiddo,” said Patton wetly, “I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want you to _want_ to get hurt, and I want to help,”

“Humans lie all the time,” said Remus, laughing bitterly, “Why don’t you ask _Roman,_ he certainly knows all about it,”

“Remus-”

“Don’t, _don’t_ , don’t you _dare-”_

He leapt to his feet, not quite blink-fast like Virgil, but certainly not human – more like a feral wolverine lunging, and White moved to her feet at the same time.

But Remus didn’t move toward them – he just bolted.

“Remus, _wait!”_

He didn’t even slow down, and by the time Patton had gotten to his own feet, Remus was gone completely.

White reared up on her back legs, twisting like a curling of rising incense smoke until she was her more humanoid self, and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Let him go,” she said.

“I- but what if he-?”

“Then he does,” said White simply.

Patton swallowed.

“You cannot fix everything, dear Patton,” she said, “He does not want your help,”

“How do you _know,_ though?” said Patton, “Maybe- maybe he just… doesn’t know how to ask,”

He sounded weak, even to Patton’s own ears.

But what could Patton do, really? Chase him down?

And then what? _Tell_ him what to do, how to feel?

Somehow, he didn’t get the feeling Remus would give him permission.

—

Roman didn’t know if everyone else had noticed – but _Roman_ could barely think about anything else.

Fewer sightings. Less grumbling, from Seelie and Unseelie alike. Two revels now, ominously peaceful – more than a full month since Roman had seen Remus at all.

Was it over?

And why did every possible answer to that question make Roman’s stomach revolt?

Was he supposed to be grateful – like some peace and quiet was a fair price for a dead body? Or was he supposed to mourn – of course not, he didn’t even _like_ Remus, they weren’t _friends…?_

They weren’t. They _weren’t_ friends; Remus had been a constant, unending source of anxiety for him. When he hadn’t been sneaking up on Roman with life-threatening pranks he’d been making barbed comments about _mortality_ and _favorites_ and fucking _substitutes_ and Roman had-

He had hated him. Well and truly hated him.

And what kind of a sad state of affairs was that?

But there was no contest anymore, and certainly not one Roman _wanted_ to be a part of. He’d thought that was a wound long-closed – he hadn’t realized just how barely scabbed over it had been until Remus had come back and torn it fresh again.

So, by all rights, there was absolutely _nothing_ that made sense about what Roman was doing.

It had been pure impulse. He was _supposed_ to be cleaning the gutters while Linda was at Patton’s parents’ house, but instead he’d grabbed an old, too-small mood ring out of his box of random, shiny detritus and nearly fled the house while hastily tying it to the first bit of string he’d managed to locate.

Roman set it spinning, and he followed.

Of course, he didn’t find anything right away, which gave him plenty of time to wonder just what the hell he thought he was going to do when he got wherever the pendulum was leading him. _If_ he found Remus, what was Roman supposed to say to him?

If he found a body, what was Roman going to do about it?

Have a breakdown, probably, if he was being honest. Clearly this was a terrible plan, if it could be called a plan and not just Roman doing his usually jump-first-look-second thing they all politely pretended he’d grown out of.

Roman was getting close now, to whatever was on the other end of this – and he was leaning towards alive. The path started to be broken up by trees that had clearly been attacked, huge chunks taken out of the sides and some of the trunks cracked clean in two and fallen to the ground. The ones still standing were pockmarked with blight, or overgrown with mistletoe and choked with poison ivy.

As he got closer, all the underbrush around the trees was riddled with field dodder and broken up by the occasional _very_ creepy looking stalk of doll’s-eyes. The forest couldn’t have been screaming “Angry Green Man” any louder if it had been enchanted to have an actual voice.

Roman heard Remus before he saw him – a repetitive, angry thumping that turned out to be Remus taking swings with his mace at a particularly large tree trunk like a kid wailing on a piñata. He didn’t turn, and Roman took in the area around them.

More of the same plants, and the trail of destruction Roman had followed here seemed to have mirrors going off in every direction. But the small circle itself was clear – there was a hammock up in a tree-top, woven from what looked like more poison ivy, and a very large wooden cage that seemed to have grown right out of the ground. The parrot was inside, apparently asleep somehow in spite of the noise. A large brown rucksack hung on another tree, and that was all Roman could see in the way of personal effects.

“…Remus?”

“What?” came the dull reply.

Alright. So he did, at least, know Roman was there.

“What are you doing?”

“Redecorating,” said Remus bitterly.

Roman stopped the pendulum, rolling it up and cramming it in his pocket.

“How are you doing?”

Remus froze, and Roman regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth.

“How am I _doing?”_

Remus picked up one of the chunks of wood and pitched it at Roman. It sailed wide, missing by nearly a yard, but Remus just picked up another one and continued.

“… That came out wrong,” said Roman weakly.

“Oh, it _came out wrong,_ what a mortal thing to say-”

“Remus-”

“ _What?”_ Remus screeched, “Are you here to gloat? To have a laugh at my expense?”

“ _No!”_

“Oh!” said Remus, laughing bitterly, “To pat yourself on the back then? About how _good_ and _noble_ and _merciful_ you and your _stupid_ husbands are for not offing the pathetic little Summer-”

None of the rocks and bits of detritus he was throwing were coming anywhere near Roman, but they were still big enough to make him nervous.

“That’s not it,” said Roman firmly, “I- I was _worried-”_

“ _Liar!”_

“I’m not lying!”

“You _are!”_ Remus shrieked – he picked up the mace, and Roman wheeled back automatically, but Remus just took another enraged swing at the already-decimated tree and dropped it back to the ground, screeching in frustration.

“You don’t _care!_ ” he screamed, “You don’t _care at all!_ ”

“Remus, I do, though,” said Roman, “Of course I don’t want you to get hurt-”

“Not about _me,_ you idiot!” said Remus, his voice cracking “About _Dee!_ ”

Roman fell silent.

“He’s _dead!”_ said Remus, yanking on his hair, “He’s dead and it’s _your fault,_ you- you _traitor-”_

Roman tried to pretend that didn’t sting.

“And here you are,” Remus spat, “With- with your perfect little family and your perfect little _spawn_ , because _you_ got to stay with him and got- got him _killed-_ ”

“I-”

“It’s not-”

Remus voice broke, his expression wavering between fury and misery.

“It’s not _fair,_ ” he gasped, “It’s not _fair,_ I-”

And then he burst into tears.

Roman felt rooted to the spot as Remus seemed to- to _crumple,_ like someone closing their fist around a piece of paper, falling back against the ragged, ruined tree.

“I did everything right,” Remus sobbed, “I did everything he wanted, everything he asked of me, and he _picked_ you anyway, you _won,_ and you betrayed him and it’s not _fair,_ why-”

He rammed his head back against the bark of the tree.

“ _Why do you get to be happy?_ ” he wailed.

Roman didn’t actually remember crossing the space between them, before he was on his knees next to Remus with his hands fluttering uselessly around him. Remus didn’t even react, having buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking with sobs.

Roman’s hands tentatively came to rest on Remus’s arms. He wrinkled his nose a little at the… uncomfortably _damp_ texture of his coat, and Remus still didn’t move.

“Hey,” said Roman weakly, his own voice cracking.

“I should have _been here_ ,” Remus spat through the tears, his breath coming in huge, whooping gasps - though he didn’t push Roman off. “I could have- I should have _saved_ him-”

“ _Hey,”_ Roman repeated, firmer, “We’re gonna take a deep breath, okay?”

“I’m not your _brat!_ ” choked Remus.

“Yeah, I know,” said Roman, smiling weakly, “Just do it anyway,”

And if there was anything more telling than that Remus didn’t protest again, Roman didn’t know what it was.

There _were_ probably stupider things Roman could do then tug on an emotional, hostile Green Man until Remus tipped over with a miserable noise and face-planted in Roman’s chest, but the list was not very long.

Remus was moist like his coat all over, and warmer than Roman – the effect made him come across sort of feverishly sweaty, and Roman tried not to wrinkle his nose too obviously.

He also tried not to think about how tentatively Remus must have been keeping ahold of this, that the dam had shattered on _Roman_ of all people.

“I didn’t, you know,” said Roman quietly, “Win,”

Remus hiccuped in his arms.

“Love isn’t supposed to be a competition,”

Remus let out a humorless snort.

“Easy for you to say,” said Remus, brittle and caustic through his tears, “You didn’t _lose,_ ”

Roman sighed a little.

“And you just-” Remus continued, like he couldn’t stop himself, “You just gave him up as soon as something _better_ came along, like… like it didn’t even _matter_ that you loved him, and now you’ve got- got your stupid perfect life-”

Roman’s chest _throbbed,_ and he gave up even the pretense of caution and squeezed Remus against him, setting his cheek on top of Remus’s head and rocking them a little.

“Love’s also not supposed to _hurt,_ ” said Roman.

Remus petulantly wiped his runny nose on Roman’s shirt, and Roman almost laughed.

“That’s the difference,” said Roman, “Dee was hurting me. I know he hurt you, even- even if I don’t know if it was the same way,”

He felt Remus frown against his chest.

“… Did he even miss me?”

Roman swallowed around the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know,” he croaked, “But whether he did or not, you deserve better. He never should have sent you away to miss at all, it- it was cruel, what he did to you. Us,”

Remus shook his head.

“He love- he loved. Me,”

The words were tremulous – fragile. Remus believed it, but only just barely. Roman didn’t believe it at all, but somehow he got the feeling saying that was the wrong move.

“It was still wrong,” said Roman, “People who love you shouldn’t… punish you. You shouldn’t be afraid of them,”

“I wasn-”

The word cut off, not quite abruptly enough the Roman could be sure if it was deliberate or not.

“I wasn’t good enough,” said Remus, and Roman doubted that was what he meant to say but he didn’t push. “If I’d- if I’d just been _better_ than you-”

Wrong, _wrong,_ Roman was doing this _all wrong_ , he was sure of it, but he didn’t know how to make Remus understand what he was saying.

“Neither of us is – or _was_ , better. That’s not how it works. You love people because you love them, not because they _earned_ it,”

Roman readjusted his arms again. The spongy, mossy material of Remus’s clothes was leaving faintly damp spots everywhere Roman touched him, but he ignored it.

“It’s unasked for and freely given, Remus,” said Roman, “Or- it’s supposed to be, anyway. It’s _not supposed to hurt._ Not like that,”

Remus shuddered. He was quiet for a long time, before he let out a brief, humorless snort.

“Maybe no one’s ever loved me, then,” he said bitterly, “Should have guessed,”

He wiggled, and Roman made a split second and very stupid decision to not let go. Remus huffed and let his face drop on Roman’s chest again, in spite of the fact Roman was nearly positive he couldn’t have kept hold of him if Remus had really struggled.

Roman didn’t know what to say to that – he had to be saying all the wrong things and probably messing it up spectacularly. But he did, at least, know what _he_ had wanted to hear. Hopefully, that could be enough.

“None of this,” he said firmly, “Is your fault,”

Remus huffed.

“I think your _husbands_ might disagree,”

“I didn’t say you were dealing with it perfectly,” said Roman, patting him on the back of the head, “But – the quest. Me, and what I did, and Dee being gone. None of that is your fault,”

Remus was quiet for nearly a full minute, and so still Roman began to wonder if he might have fallen asleep, exhausted from the emotions of it all.

“… You’re really not going to kill me?” said Remus. He sounded so young for a moment Roman couldn’t breath at all around the lump in his throat, let alone speak.

“We’re really not,” Roman managed after moment.

“Even if I keep bothering your daughter?”

“You won’t,” said Roman. He felt Remus frown against his chest, confused.

“Kitty-girl’s already decided that you’re friends,” continued Roman dryly, “No offense, but she _will_ win,”

Remus let out a low hum that might have been a laugh.

“… I know I tried to kill you. A bunch,” said Remus, “But- are we-”

Roman smiled, unable to contain it, squeezing Remus so tightly that the Green Man let out a short squawk of protest and struggled in his grip.

“Do you know how many times me and Bell nearly killed each other?” said Roman. The joke didn’t fall flat, the way it would have with his husbands, and Remus giggled.

“Yeah, Stinkbug,” said Roman. Wiggling again, Remus readjusted his hands until there was no mistaking it for anything _but_ a hug, his arms wrapped firmly around Roman’s middle.

“We can be friends,”


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When North American Wood Frogs hibernate, they do often freeze almost completely solid, and in the spring they thaw and are totally fine. It’s terrifying. I love them.
> 
> A big thanks to @trivia-goddess, who, as i mentioned in the previous chapter but it bears repeated, is a Gift To Mine Heart and gave me the peptalk that made these two installment exist. You are a Rockasaurus.
> 
> You know that tip that says when you’re upset, to not do anything drastic before you’ve taken a nap?
> 
> Yeah.

_6 months later_

Cold. _Stiff._ Sharp, and- prickling. Crunching ice.

Make a fist. Got fingers. Count them? One-to-ten.

Hmm. Boring.

Move the leg. _Lotta_ crunching. Got real cold, apparently. Didn’t die, though, that’s-

Good? Is it good?

_Yeah_ , thought Remus, _We’re going with good._

Thawing was only funny in the way joking about how miserable you are is funny. _Funny,_ yeah, but not _fun._

He didn’t know how long it took – Remus hadn’t really done a _proper_ overwinter since he’d been barely more than a seedling, and it was dark inside the hollow tree he’d picked. It was the warmth that had woken him, not the sun.

Guessing… three days? Since he was _aware_ anyway. No idea how long it took him to thaw enough to have thoughts.

He wasn’t supposed to move while the ice in his blood melted – that’s how you get holes in you and bleed to death – but it was hard not to fidget.

And it was hard not to want to go right back to sleep, too. The world came back in broken bits and sharp, crooked pieces. Backwards, too – unfamiliar and familiar-but-not-right faces waving goodbye to him just before he’d gone to sleep was the first thing he remembered.

And then he had to remember what they were called, and why they knew him, and why there were faces – a face, one face, _the_ face – missing. Remember Dee was dead, and had been for years, and Remus hadn’t even known.

(Dee thought overwintering was pathetic. He wouldn’t have come to see Remus to sleep. Or maybe he would have? Maybe he would have thought it was- funny or, or cute in a pitiful kind of way, like how Remus felt about really picky plants-

_Don’t come back without them._

No. Dee wouldn’t have thought it was cute.)

Remus was sad. And angry, and- angry that he was sad, and sad that he was angry. He also didn’t quite know who it was at, which was. Frustrating. Especially half-frozen and not allowed to _fidget._

Remus should just go back to sleep. Maybe it would be a nightmare, and he would wake up next to Dee and tell him about his ridiculous dream about witch-knights and dead princes and bobcat children. Dee would think that was funny, right?

(No. Not right. Dee never wanted to hear about the Spider Prince, not from other gentry and certainly not from _wild fae_ and Remus _knew better_ than to say stupid silly things that would _upset_ his love, he wasn’t an _idiot-_

_It’s not supposed to hurt._

And wasn’t that a wild concept? Remus was pretty sure most things hurt, as a rule.)

Remus considered it. It had been too warm for too long, he would thaw whether he liked it or not. But he didn’t have to get up. He could stay here. A good tree is a good shelter.

(“And what’s it called?”

“Pinkie swearing,” said Bobby, wearing a stunned expression atop Roman’s shoulders, “The human girls on my soccer team make’em _all_ the time, it’s crazy!”

“You know promises are different for humans, Kitty,” said Roman, and the comment only made Remus want to kill him a little, which was definitely an improvement.

“I dunno,” said Bobby, swinging her legs, “Maybe- maybe in all-human towns, it’s fine, it just seems, um, not-so-smart. I told them I didn’t wanna make any though and they didn’t ask again,”

“Good plan,”

“How do you do it?” asked Remus.

Bobby awkwardly hooked her pinkies around each other.

“Like that, kinda,” she said, “‘Cept you do it across, with each other,”

“Like this?”

“Remus,” said Roman warningly.

“Yeah,” said Bobby, “But I don’t want you to promise me anything,”

Remus tilted his head.

“Really? Nothing?”

Bobby shook her head, looking down at him with a toothy grin.

“Nah,” she said, “I only, um, want you t’keep coming over if you wanna! Not ‘cuz you gotta ‘cuz of a promise,”

Remus swallowed.

“…Oh,”

Bobby tilted her head.

“You… _do_ you wanna keep coming over t’see me?”

Remus felt the weight of Roman’s gaze on him like a stone shirt.

“Yeah, Bobby,” he said, “I do,”)

Remus tested his hands again, slowly. No ice. He moved his legs, and they were the same. Stretching completely, he climbed out of the tree.

He glanced around the clearing, empty and bare. His hammock had mostly withered without him, but he could always make another. Eulalia’s cage was empty, but he’d been expecting that.

But on top of it was a little box, a scribbled note on top.

Remus tapped it – hollow, and when he clicked it open there was a bottle of… some very colorful water. Or maybe juice. Remus frowned at it, looking at the note.

_We are unsure as to when exactly you will awaken, but this will keep, and provide you with easily accessible calories upon consciousness, as well as hydration.  
_ _-S_

_P.S: It is fizzy._

Remus thought absently that they could be trying to poison him. Choosing a fizzy drink to bait him, knowing how much he liked them.

He drank the pop anyway – just because he knew it might be bait didn’t make it less effective.

Remus alternated between whistling and sipping at the bubbly tingly drink, making his way aimlessly through the woods in the early-afternoon sunlight. He wasn’t really sure where he was going to go first.

Eventually, he decided he wanted to get Eulalia, even if that meant he had to see Roman first thing when his half-awake state still wanted to punch him a little. Or a lot.

“Birdy, birdy, pretty birdy,” he murmured.

“Oh,” came a voice, “It’s you,”

Remus looked up at Snowmelt just as he shed his glamour of sunbeams and waved him forward impatiently.

“Come here,”

“What, right now? Aren’t you married?”

“Inappropriate,” said Snowmelt flatly.

Remus tried not to quail.

“But really, why the rush?” said Remus, transparently changing the subject and swirling the last of the pop as he peered into the bottle for any loose toxic herbs.

“Your parrot loves you very much,” said Snowmelt, “It is _a problem,_ ”

Remus twitched at ‘your parrot,’ but he managed not to flip out. She was, even if she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Has she been driving you crazy?” he asked, smiling.

Snowmelt scowled and didn’t answer.

Remus tried to hit him in the head with the empty bottle when he finished, but Snowmelt caught it with an eye roll and dropped it in the trash as he led Remus into their house.

“Remus is awake, dear!”

“Oh, that’s great!” called Shrike, nearly drowned out by the shrieking of their spawn as she barreled around the corner.

“Good morning, good morning!”

“It is afternoon, Kitty,” said Snowmelt.

“Yeah, but, but he jus’ woke up!” she said, attaching herself to Remus’s legs, “So you say good morning, I think?”

The grip around his knees _burned_ , unnaturally heavy for a creature so small. Remus half wanted to kick her away and half wanted to pick her up and squeeze her and refuse to let go.

Snowmelt swiped a hand through her hair with a grin.

“I suppose that is reasonable enough,” he said, greeting Shrike with a kiss on the cheek. A twist of something that was not quite jealousy but certainly ugly enough to compare rippled through Remus.

Shrike stilled accommodatingly and then pushed past to Remus, beaming as he gestured him forward toward the table.

“Are you hungry? Wait, are you supposed to eat? I don’t want you to make yourself sick-”

Remus cocked his head.

“I’m just here to get Eulalia,”

Shrike just blinked at him patiently.

“… yes, I can eat,”

“Great!” said Shrike, “I think we have some trail mix, you can munch on that while I make some real food,”

Remus perked up automatically at the mention of trail mix (bait, _bait,_ it’s like you’re _trying_ to fall for it you _idiot_ ) even though he still felt a touch off-kilter at the way Shrike was just sort of plowing past the awkwardness – but he was surprisingly strong for a mortal as he pushed Remus into one of the chairs, humming a happy little tune.

“Didja have a good sleep?” asked Bobby, propping her chin up on her palm as she watched him across the table.

Remus considered.

“Yes,” he finally said.

Bobby chattered while Remus nibbled on the trail mix, his appetite coming back slow but steady. Snowmelt returned from another room, and Remus couldn’t help the gasp he let out when he looked up.

Eulalia squawked furiously, taking off from her perch on Snowmelt’s arm and crash-landing inelegantly on the table, hopping and bouncing her head and nipping just a little too sharp at Remus’s hands.

“Hello, you feathery bastard!” exclaimed Remus.

“Swear jar,” said Shrike (and cheered Bobby).

“ _Bastard, bastard, bastard!”_

“Eulalia doesn’t gotta put dollars in the swear jar,” said Bobby sagely, “Since she’s a bird and doesn’t have any money,”

“Eulalia doesn’t have to put anything in the swear jar because she’s a faultless being none of us are worthy of” said Remus.

Snowmelt snorted.

Shrike kept Remus supplied with a steady flow of trail mix, which he shared with Eulalia and only a little begrudgingly with the Royal Spawn.

He was actually fairly relaxed, but then he got distracted by Shrike putting the actual food in front of him and didn’t realize Snowmelt had taken Bobby out of the room until his mouth was occupied and he was alone with Shrike.

Remus tried not to twitch.

“Easy,” said Shrike, “You’re not in trouble,”

He’d heard that a lot in the weeks leading up to overwinter. It never stopped feeling like a trap, but they hadn’t sprung it yet if it was.

“Do you remember my friend, the doctor? You talked to him right before hibernation,”

“Overwinter,” said Remus hollowly.

“Right,” said Shrike, unrelenting, “Do you remember him?”

“…yes,” said Remus, “The heart healer,”

Shrike smiled.

“Yeah, kinda,” he said softly, “Did you think about it?”

Remus fiddled with the silverware.

“There’s no wrong answer,” said Shrike, and that had to be another trap, didn’t it?

“I know you just woke up,” said Shrike, a little sheepish, “I didn’t mean to- sorta ambush you, but-”

He reached out and Remus froze automatically, waiting for the blow to fall, but Shrike just fiddled with Remus’s hair a little like he always did.

“I thought it might be a good idea if you hung out little closer to town for a little while anyway,” he said, all nerves and forced-cheer, “While you’re- waking up, so we can make sure you’ve got enough food and there’s no problems-”

Remus flinched.

“Oh, no, honey, not you!” said Shrike immediately, “I just meant- well, V- the prince, and our Spring, they said you’d- well, that you really did _freeze,_ like _solid,_ and I just-”

He shuddered.

“It made me anxious,” he said, “I was- I was really worried,”

“… you _were?_ ” croaked Remus, incredulous.

“Of course!” said Shrike, equally baffled, “I mean- did you _really_ freeze?”

“Well, yeah,” said Remus, who was kind of astonished – and a little amused – that mortals were so fragile they apparently just…what? Dropped dead in the winter? How were they not just knee-deep in human corpses, in that case?

“Well, not _solid,_ ” admitted Remus, “I’d guess like… two thirds?”

Shrike shivered again.

“No, thank you,” he said warily, “But-”

He bit his lip.

“Do you feel better?” he said softly, “You said… you and Logan said it might help. Like a reset,”

Remus considered.

Did he feel better?

He still kind of hated Roman. But he was also friends with Roman, which was especially weird when Roman did things that made both feelings happen at the same time, like beat him in duels. Snowmelt still freaked him out, because he’d been a slip of a Spring when Remus had left and he’d returned to a fully-grown Green Man who could _soundly_ kick his ass. Shrike was still both at once weirdly comforting and deeply unsettling and Remus was pretty sure his first instinct when he saw the Spider Prince was still going to be “suicidal levels of disrespect.” None of those things had changed.

And he still missed Dee. So much. The way you miss the knife that was keeping you from bleeding out.

But he did, at least, feel like he’d stopped the bleeding. Slowed it, at the very least. Certainly an improvement from pretending there was no knife or wound at all.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “I feel a little better,”

Shrike beamed, proud and delighted, and Remus found there was suddenly a bit of a lump in his throat.

“Oh, kiddo, I’m so glad!” he said, giving Remus’s hand a quick squeeze.

“Your friend,” blurted Remus, “The- the healer,”

Shrike’s smile spread even wider.

“You want to see him?” he said, “I think you’ll really like him, kiddo. You can ask Roman about the therapy stuff when he gets home, he’s been itching for you to wake up,”

“That’s me,” said Remus, smiling a little, “Like a bad case of poison oak – almost impossible to get rid of,”

“Hey, don’t be mean,” Shrike admonished gently.

Remus frowned.

“I was talking about me, not Roman-?”

“Well, I mean don’t be mean to _you_ , you goose,”

Remus was saved from having to find a way to respond to that _weird-as-fuck_ statement by the front door opening.

“Papa, Vati, Remus is awake!”

“We heard,” came Roman’s amused voice, but Remus was more preoccupied with the fact that he’d blinked and suddenly the Spider Prince was standing right in front of him with an expression like thunder.

He leaned in, his eyes narrowed, and Remus tried to remember that Green Man or not, he’d been on the _chasing_ side of a lot more Hunts than he had been _chased,_ and did not flinch.

“Are you okay?” said the Prince, his voice cracking.

Remus just stared.

“Hey, babe,” said Roman softly, “Give him some space?”

The Prince startled, and then moved back immediately.

“I’m sorry,” he said – Remus was never going to get used to that, he was certain. What sort of regent _apologized?_

“We were starting to worry you’d never wake up,” continued the Prince, and it was painfully obvious he was trying to make a joke that was falling hopelessly flat. Not least because Remus thought he might be shaking.

“Nah, you’re still winning,” said Remus.

His landed just as poorly in the dead silence.

Well. This was terrible. Maybe he ought to stab someone super quick so they would forget the past thirty seconds.

“Well,” said Roman, moving between them, “Uh- Good morning, I suppose,”

“Your spawn said the same thing,”

“Did she?” laughed Roman, “How am I the one teaching Kitty manners?”

The black-and-auburn cat at their feet batted at Roman’s ankles and apparently said something that made Roman sputter in indignation.

Something sort of… _lurched_ in Remus’s stomach, almost like he was going to vomit, something that was half words and half physical.

“Can I-”

Roman looked up from the cat, waiting for a moment.

“Can you what?” he prompted gently.

Remus found his own hands were shaking a little. But if it was… but it probably wasn’t a trap, right? It had been so long (it hadn’t, barely months but he _wished),_ it couldn’t be.

Right?

“Can I have a hug?” he croaked.

He barely knew why he was asking. Mentally, anyway – physically his skin was crawling like a bunch of grindylows had laid eggs under it and the little tadpole-folk were swimming around. That was another new thing, new and _bizarre,_ the concept of people touching him in a… _friendly_ way. It had been happening a lot before overwinter, and Remus hadn’t realized how used to it he’d gotten until he hadn’t had it in three months. He could still feel the phantom burn of Bobby’s skinny little child-arms around his knees.

They used to be the same height, but Roman was just a little taller now. Which was… nice. Remus set his forehead on Roman’s shoulder and his arms around Roman’s ribs and Roman squeezed him around his shoulders.

“Oh, oh, oh, group hug!” shrieked the spawn, running in from the other room.

“Kitty, Remus might not want-”

“That’s fine,” Remus blurted.

Bobby threw her arms around their legs just above their knees.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” she said, “Oh gee, you’re kinda damp Mr. Remus,”

“That’s normal,” said Roman, “And you- should she not say that? Is that rude?”

The Prince shrugged helplessly, but Remus didn’t really register it around the sensation of Shrike setting his hands against Remus back and shoulder and Snowmelt leaning across to place one hand on the other.

“Are you alright?” said Roman.

Remus was pretty sure if he tried to say “yes” out loud he’d falter. But he did manage a nod against Roman’s shoulder, and he felt Roman relax, just a bit.

“I’m glad,” he said.

Humans could lie. Humans _did_ lie, a lot.

But somehow, this time, Remus really did believe him.

**Author's Note:**

> you can also find me [@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors.tumblr.com) over on tumblr, and i once again encourage you to check out [Willowanderer's fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300998/chapters/50724161) because I love it


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